That's an oxymoron.
I'm not at all certain what summer has going for it. First, there's the infestation of bugs. The parched drought-riddled landscape. The water restrictions. The stench of sizzling asphalt. The short tempers, endless sweating, and questionable attire.
Oh, let's not ignore the prolonged presence of painfully bright sunlight. Unrelenting sun leads to abysmal heat, cloying humidity... and hellacious sunburns. Yes, yes, I do know what it is like to be flame-broiled by the sun in under sixty minutes. No, no, charred flesh doesn't smell like chicken. It's a bit more like snake, if you must know.
I endure summer much like one endures a camp recital rife with mosquitoes and three-part sing-alongs. In truth, I've far more in common with Nosferatu than any beach bunny.